A/N: Well, this is not my first fic, but it is my first for House, M.D. I'm not a native English speaker, so I'm so sorry for any mistake or typos, but I hope I wrote everything well. Grammar corrections are welcome.

Some clarifications: in my fic, House's parents don't live in Michigan, but in California. I had to move them there to achieve the purpose of the story. Also, if some of you were worried about Wilson, don't. He will appear, later.

This chapter will be a bit boring because I practically borrowed the dialogue from "Birthmarks", but it was necessary. Hope you like it!

Disclaimer: If I owned House, I would get Jennifer Morrison back to the show and fire Foreman or Dr. Park – honestly, I can't stand them –, instead of writing this fic.

Chapter 1

When House opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the farmland through the car window. Then, he turned his face to his left and realized that Cameron was driving.

"I am not doing this because I care." Cameron said.

"What am I doing here?" House asked, slightly confused.

"Don't you remember? Cuddy drugged you," she answered.

He turned his face to his right again and suddenly, he remembered his conversation with Cuddy…

-o-

"Sorry about your father," Cuddy said as she entered House's office.

"I'm not. Are we done emoting now?"

"If there's anything I can do, just –"

"You know, you're right. I don't think I can sleep alone tonight." House said, with his usual sarcasm, while Cuddy pulled out a syringe. "And you can tell me that that is liquid Vicodin."

"We're giving IG shots to everyone who came in contact with your patient. Shockingly, none of the nurses volunteered to administer yours. It goes better in a large muscle. Drop your pants." She added when House began to roll up his right sleeve.

House stood up, unbuckled his jeans and leaned on the desk.

"You know, I usually pay tens of dollars to hear that."

"The funeral's tomorrow," Cuddy said simply, before injecting him.

"My mom called you?"

"There is a 3:40 flight out of Newark. If you leave now, you can be in Lexington tonight. Your mother wants you to deliver a eulogy." He made a face of despair.

"'Eulogy,' from the Greek for "good word." Now, if she asked me to deliver a bastardogy, I'd be happy to —"

"Then be a grown-up. Call your mother back and tell her that you're sick with grief, but you're too busy to be there."

"She knows when I'm lying."

"Then start writing." And with that, she left.

Minutes later, when House stood, he lurched and passed out on the floor.

-o-

"I remember now. But why are you —?" he asked curiously.

"Your mom didn't call Cuddy. She called me."

"How did she get your number?"

Cameron shrugged. "Remember when you parents came to visit and we all had lunch together?" House nodded curtly. "Well, after the lunch, she asked me my number and I gave it to her."

House blinked in surprise at this revelation before speaking again. "I'm not doing this at all. If there were something to be done, I would have done it in the year he spent dying." He checked his pockets. "You took my Vicodin? I'm in pain," se whined.

She stared at him intently for a few seconds before returning her gaze to the road, and then pulled a Vicodin bottle from her purse, opened it and gave House one pill.

"Just one?" Cameron nodded. "So, you not only hast thou taken off my freedom, but you're also controlling my intake of Vicodin." She nodded again.

Seeing that she would not talk, he leaned back in his seat, looking out the window, when his phone rang. He checked his pockets again and asked Cameron "Where is my phone?" She ignored him. "It's the team. It's their ring tone. Forget it. The patient's blood is on your hands."

She sighed before taking out his phone from her purse, checked the ID and set it on speaker.

"House? You there?" Foreman began.

"I'm being held against my will. Call the police!" Cameron shot him a glare.

"Nicole had a clot in the hepatic vein. Chase sucked it out, saved her liver." Thirteen spoke this time.

"No signs of a tumor or venous malformations. Nothing that could cause —" Now it was Kutner.

"She's an addict." Thirteen interrupted him.

"Drugs and alcohol wouldn't —" Kutner began but was interrupted by Thirteen again.

"She's a smoker. Combine smoking with any one of a dozen genetic disorders, and she's a clotting machine."

"Multiple blood clots would tie together bowel ischemia, lungs, and the liver." Taub pointed.

"We need to pinpoint which defect she has so we can start her on the right anticoagulant. Draw her blood. Let's find out which genetic gift her genetic parents gave her," Foreman ordered.

"Thanks for calling. My ring tone for you is 'Mamma Mia,' by ABBA," House said, hanging his phone. Cameron rolled her eyes.

They were silent for a while, until House spoke again.

"I need to pee. Pull over at the next stop."

"I think you can handle it with that," she said, handing him a plastic bottle.

"You know what? I'll just pee on the floor," he said, tossing the bottle into the back seat and began to unbuckle his belt.

"Okay then, there's a gas station in a few miles. Can you wait just ten minutes?" Cameron asked with a sigh.

He smirked and nodded.

Minutes later, Cameron parked at the gas station to fill up her car and House opened his door.

"Give me my cane," he ordered.

"The restroom's just a few feet from here. You can make it without your cane."

"I suppose I could talk about the summer he decided he wasn't speaking to me. Two months, not one word. Anything he wanted to say, he typed up and slipped under my bedroom door." He looked at her.

"Can't you just go for your mom? Or tell her you're sad?"

"No. I'd be lying."

"Well, then, lie." She crossed her arms and shrugged.

"Who are you and what did you do with Cameron?"

"Just make her happy."

"You win. I'll go to the damn funeral." She smiled, handed him his cane and saw him limping towards the restrooms.

-o-

House was silent since he returned to the car, along with Cameron. The sky was already dyed with the twilight colors when he spoke.

"By the way, where are we?"

"Somewhere in Indiana. We will spend one night at Davenport, Iowa, and tomorrow we'll continue on our way at dawn. Get comfortable, it will be a really long road trip to Davis."

"As if I could get comfortable in these seats," he snarled.

"Is not my fault that we had to drug you so you could go to your dad's funeral. If it weren't for your crassness, we could have taken a plane."

"Oh yeah, it's my fault, then."

"It is," she said with a nod.

"My mom isn't going to wait three days just for us. We won't make it on time."

"She will."

He observed at her for a few minutes, her now blonde hair, which was tied in a ponytail, was shining with the dim sunlight and some wavy strands were falling over her face. Her blue-green eyes were now gleaming in orange and yellow, like her creamy and soft skin, reflecting the twilight colors. Her lips were slightly parted and he found them tempting… Shaking his head at that thought, he continued talking.

"Why are you so sure about that?"

"Because she told me so."

"She won't. My dad was a punctual man, beholden to time. Two minutes late for dinner, you didn't eat. My mom would never disrespect him by delaying his own funeral."

"But he's dead now. I think her son is more important than her husband now," she countered.

"No, you don't know my mom. She always did what he told her." House shook his head.

"We'll see."

-o-

It was late when they arrived at a small motel near Davenport. At the hotel reception desk was a skinny, bored-looking blonde girl, who was chewing a piece of gum.

"Welcome to John's Inn. My name is Samantha. May I help you?" the girl asked.

"Yeah, thanks. I want two single rooms, please," Cameron said politely.

"Sure. There," Samantha said, giving them both two keys, "These are the rooms 9 and 10."

"Did you get me some clothes?" House asked when they were out of the reception.

"Of course, yes. I wasn't going to leave you wearing the same clothes for a week. At the end, you will smell like a skunk and then I would send you to the roof of the car," Cameron deadpanned.

He nodded, not knowing what to say. They walked towards the car to get their luggage. Well, Cameron did, because House was already making his way towards the room.

"Where are you going? You have to get your bag!" she shouted.

"I'm a cripple, remember? Bring it to my room."

She rolled her eyes and carried their luggage towards their rooms. It was going to be a long trip but maybe, just maybe, it would be worth it, especially because of the idea that she had in mind…

A/N: I know, in this chapter I just used many dialogues from Birthmarks with some changes here and there, as I said in my first A/N.

Next chapter, the funeral! It's still boring but at least, we are going straight to the core of the plot.

Tell me, what did you think? Should I continue or throw it away? Should I write some pointless conversations between House and Cameron on their way from Davenport to Davis, with another boring night at a motel somewhere or jump directly to their arriving at Davis, California? Again, I'm sorry for any mistakes.

One more thing: I think I need a beta. Does anyone want to be my beta?